


Why you wanna fly, Blackbird? (you're never gonna fly)

by fortaesconsumption, Thecomicsanendcredits



Category: GOT7, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Bullying, Crying, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Eventual Yoonmin - Freeform, Homophobic Language, Intense feels, M/M, Mentions of Suicide Attempts, Tags will be updated as I go along, This has a happy ending I promise, eventual self acceptance, falling in love for the first time, mentions of physical abuse, mentions of physiological abuse, mentions of selfhatred, mentions of sexual abuse, please dont hate me...., this is really hard to write
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-04-08 05:14:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14098011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortaesconsumption/pseuds/fortaesconsumption, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thecomicsanendcredits/pseuds/Thecomicsanendcredits
Summary: !!! WARNING!!!this fic has mentions of rape\sexual assault, as well as homophobic language. if you are not comfortable with any of this, DO NOT READ IT!I had been contemplating for a long time on weather I should upload a fic like this, but I finally decided to do it after some encouragement from my very good friend Ragan. She will also be co-writing this work with me now! Please love her and follow her @thecomicsanendcreditsWriting this is kinda like killing two birds with one stone, since I get to express my creativity and sort of relieve some of the stresses that my therapist said I should work out. some of my own situations will be incorporated into this as well, so maybe it will give you a little bit of incite into me, who I am, and what ive gone through (sort of)[ON HIATUS]





	1. No place big enough for all the tears youre gonna cry

“C'mon guys, just me back my stuff! This isn't funny!" the raven haired boy groaned, but it didn't come out nearly as well as he thought it would, probably because his voice was so light everything sounded like a whine. Once again, three of the most annoying assholes decided to corner the boy in the boys bathroom and mess with him, roughing up his uniform and ripping the book bag from his back. This had become a weekly think for the young boy, but he still was not really used to such torment.

Well... Actually that is a partial lie.

He was very used to looks and whispers and unwanted, uncalled for nudges in the hallway both students and teachers. But he soon grew numb to them, his mind being the only thing that was ever more scary than all of the people in the world that looked at him as if he had some sort of contagious disease that could be caught just from willingly touching his skin.

"Awee, look guys~ The little faggot's gonna cry!" one of the taller boys laughed, followed by the two other boys, their heads tipped back and their hands clutching their stomachs as is they had heard the funniest joke in the world. Jimin was anything but amused by this entire situation. He was angry, sad, and hurt, but most of all, he was tired. This was always the case for him, unfortunately.

But, like always, he was too weak and too tired --and to himself, too stupid-- to try to stop it. So ever since the beginning of his high school life he has learned to endure the pain that always tried to awaken in his heart that froze itself over all those years ago. Jimin had had enough of this, and just wanted it all to end already before it got too far.

"Look, I won't tell on you to anyone. Just give me back my things, and I will act like nothing ever happened here." he tried to negotiate with the boys, which only earned him another round of laughter and a hard shove into the cold grey wall behind him, making him hiss at the twinge of pain that sparked in his shoulder blades and the back of his head.

"No one gives a damn about you telling on us, bitch. It's not like anyone is gonna believe anything that comes out of your filthy mouth anyways. Everyone hates you." the tallest boy of the three spat to him as if it were factual. "Now, lets see what you are hiding in this bag of yours."

There was an evil glint in the brunettes eyes that Jimin knew all too well and was no stranger to seeing. The boy started unzipping his bag-- which looked more like he was trying to literally rip it in half by hand-- and proceeded to dump all of the contents of the bag out onto the grimy bathroom floor; all of the papers with assignments and important notes from his classes scattering onto the porcelain tile surface. It was if it was in slow motion, everything tumbling out of the leather case like waves rolling on the sea, only to meet their demise back into the same sea that they were born from. Jimin didn't speak, didn’t move, didn't blink. He stood there with his eyes fixed on all of his hard work being dumped onto the ground while the other boys started to rummage and kick through it , tearing it to pieces in front of him.

But Jimin just stared and watched, physically unmoved by the scene that played out in front of him, and he didn’t really know why. Maybe it was the fact that this -- the hell that he had been facing with his so-called "peers" of his high school-- was nothing like the pure evil that he would face later on. Or, maybe he was so numb he forgot what some feelings were. Forgot how to feel scared, worried, frightened... Probably because his new best friends, _Anxiety_ and _Loneliness_ , came and kept him company, living in the four corners of his mind and making their presence known in the most subtle ways possible. So because of those two, he had lost all knowledge on how to feel anything but pain and utter hatred towards his entire existence.

This didn't earn a great response from the three boys, whose mission was to make Jimin's days unbearable to no end. The two shorter ones looked at Jimin with shocked expressions,not expecting him to he so uncaring towards the entire situation, since they were so used to getting the boy to whine and beg for them because "sluts always have to beg for what they want like dogs in order to be heard.” Apparently, their slut was tired of begging, his big black irises just looked at the ground, voided of any sort of emotion. The oldest of the three raised his eyebrows in wonder, thinking of what torture he could induce on this boy.

Just as he was getting ready to act, he was cut off by the sound of the final bell, signalling the end of the school day. The noise woke Jimin out of his trance, his gaze falling on the closed bathroom door as he heard the loud chatter and laughter of the other kids being let out of their classes. “Don’t think this is over, punk. Tomorrow is a brand new day” the middle kid said, giving him one last shove into the way as a --sort-of-- goodbye before he walked out of the bathroom, his friends following him like brainwashed minions.

 

 

 

> _Tomorrow is a brand new day..._

 

 

 

 

Jimin found no words to say back to him. He was never one to say anything to anyone; always so obedient and docile, a puppet waiting for anyone to pull his strings and make him dance. It was because he had no fight left in him anymore, no more hope. He was tired, so so tired of the this absolute misery that was his life.

It’s already hard dealing with everyone else hating you. But when you start hating _yourself_ , it starts to become unbearable and burdensome. Its suffocating, constricting your mind into betraying your logical and rational thinking, and it eats you alive and leaves you empty.

 

As Jimin stood in the dreary, dark bathroom with his papers scattered and tarnished, he felt absolute _emptiest._

He gathered up his belongings (which wasn’t much by now) and walked out of the bathroom, his head hung low keep people from seeing the tears that threatened to stream from his eyes.

 

 

 


	2. You're mother's name is lonely, and your father's name is pain.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i introduce a new character here. hope you like it~~
> 
>  
> 
> I will probably post a new chapter on wednesday or thursday since im on spring break this week and have a lot of extra time.

Jimin watched as the last school bus zoomed past him, filled with the maximum capacity of students allowed on it. But unlike the rest of them, he was on the outside, the light rain coming down from the darkening sky.

 

Jimin never rides the bus to or from school, and his parents never pick him up. He was told that as punishment for his “choice to embarrass himself” and “shame his family”, he was to walk every day until he “changes his mind”. That was a year ago, and to this day, he still doesn't know what he’s supposed to be changing.

 

It was his mother’s idea to punish him like this, making him walk through all of the inclimate weather, not really caring what could possibly happen to him. She-- just like Busan itself-- was rather old fashion. Reluctant to accept the new revelations of the changing world around it. There was never anything new, anything spectacular, anything special that happened in his home. Tradition was held high, and those who chose to break it were faced with similar fate.

 

Basically, exile.

 

Nothing phased him about his situation anymore. Park Jimin, the boy with the sparkling brown eyes that seemed to hold the world and the stars in them, died a long time ago, along with all of his parent’s high expectations of a successful future. He was labeled as a disappointment, someone who should be left in the shadows and forgotten about because he didn’t fit the mold.

 

So, he withered away. Slowly but surely, those pretty eyes turned cold with an unspoken sadness. He was broken, but no one cared to even notice, and soon he didn’t either. He walked along the cold sidewalks, their original sand pigment turning a dark khaki as the rain came in contact with it. Jimin counted the raindrops as he made the hour journey back to his house as a sort-of distraction. It never worked. His mind always found a way to conjugate his thoughts into one big mess that he could never really understand, and never really tried to.

 

Making it to his neighborhood was nothing short of dreadful. His clothes were practically soaked through, which added extra weight on his already frail body and made it even more uncomfortable to walk in. He was still suffering from a small headache that lingered from his runin with those kids from school, and he knew when he got home it would only amplify until his only option would be forcing himself to sleep.

 

It was a typical day, a routine that he had grown accustomed to after two years, and something that he will continue to endure.

 

He finally made it to his house after an hour of walking, letting out an exhausted sigh of relief as he walked into the warm space. He took his shoes-- which he was sure he would have to throw away-- off at the door and immediately went up the stairs to his bedroom, taking quiet steps to ensure he didn’t wake up his sleeping father, who rested on the brown leather recliner that sat in the living area adjacent to the staircase. After many attempts and just as many failures, he had successfully been able to get to his room without angering his father with his presence. He remembered the times before when he didn’t know the art of stealth. Remembered the way his father’s eyes ran ice cold and peered through his soul when he was met with Jimin at the door. To say he looked angry was the farthest thing from the truth. Livid was more accurate, and it showed in every slap that landed on the young boy’s cheek, and every kick that struck his abdomen and left him doubled over in excruciating pain. He looked like he wanted to kill his own son just for living, for breathing in the same air as him. It was terrifying for Jimin, who had never seen his a man look so mad before. He thought he would never see the day when he was afraid to even look at the man in the eye, but after that incident, he was met with that fierce reality.

 

Silently, he closed the door to his room, wincing at the small click it made and the way the floor creaked as he tiptoed to his bed, setting his book bag down beside it. He took off his jacket, the material sticking to his skin and making it harder for it to slide off, but eventually it did, and he tossed it into the hamper in the corner of his room. After picking out some fresh clothes from his very sorry excuse for a closet, he walked to his tiny bathroom that was attached to his room, sighing as he looked at the reflection through his cracked up mirror. It wasn’t the first time that he looked through this same mirror and didn’t like what he saw.

 

He looked at the faint bruises that he wore on his cheeks from beating he had taken before thanks to his father and mother, watched as they gradually morphed from red, to blue-purple, to a gross mix between green and yellow before disappearing, only to be replaced with more. He looked at the bags that permanently stayed under his eyes from nights where his insomnia mixed with his anxiety had gotten the best of him and left him staring at the ceiling like it held the stars in the sky. He looked at himself and he hated what he saw, but also hated what he didn’t see.

 

Growing more depressed, he averted his eyes and went to the shower, turning the handle and leaving it to warm up while he stripped himself of his soggy school uniform before stepping into the lukewarm spray.

 

He spent the rest of the night -- just like all the ones that came before-- with his eyes plastered to the ceiling. Insomnia had won again against him.

 

 

 

⧫⧫⧫

 

 

 

School still went on the next day, and the people were the same as they were the day before. Jimin walked the halls towards his locker, opening it to get his calculus textbook, when he saw something unusual - well, unusual for him.

 

There was a boy, a little taller than himself, with blue hair. And he was… staring at Jimin?

 

Like, really staring at Jimin… Why was he staring at him!?

 

‘Surly that guy must be lost or something. Maybe he’s new here?’ Jimin wasn’t sure, but he knew that he had never seen that guy around school before. But he didn’t dwell on it for long, and went back to looking for his textbook and notebook for his next class. But when he closed his locker, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

 

The boy was walking towards him! As in like, directly in his direction!

 

Jimin was a little scared. He rarely interacts will other students, unless he is defending himself from torment, but he has never engaged in any sort of friendly interaction with anyone. Now there was some kid coming up to him and he has no clue what to do! All of his instincts told him to run away, but before he could even back away the boy had was standing in front of him and talking.

 

“Hey.” he greeted simply.

 

“U-Umm… H-Hi” Jimin greeted back, mentally slapping himself for stuttering. ‘Great, it’s only been 3 seconds and I’m already making a fool of myself’  
He expected the boy to insult him, call him a name or spit in his face or _something_ that would make him understand what his true intentions were. But what he got was totally unexpected.

 

“Can you show me where room 613 is? My next class is there, but this school is so big hand now I’m lost” he chuckled nervously. Jimin realised that he liked the way it sounded

 

 

‘No, Jimin! He is not like you! Don’t think that way’

 

 

“Uhh, sure. T-that’s my next class too. I-I’ll take you there”

 

“Cool. Thank you” the boy said, holding out his had a second later. “I’m Min Yoongi.”

 

Jimin took his hand into a nervous handshake “ I-I’m Park Jimin” he said with a small smiled, and Yoongi smiled back.

 

Jimin also realised that he liked his smile a little more than he liked his laugh. 

 

Yoongi realised how pretty Jimin looked when he smiled.


	3. and he called you little sorrow, cuz you'll never love again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a little bit of yoongi's perspective in this chapter, and also a little bit of a cliffhanger....
> 
>  
> 
> another warning, the next chapter will have some sexual harassment/rape and non-con elements in it. if you are uncomfortable with that, then you might wanna skip the next chapter. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy~~

The walk to room 613 was, as expected, very uncomfortable to Jimin, who had spent the majority of his time alone as he walked the halls. The only greetings he would get were usually met with aggressive shoulder-checks and fowl words. But now, all he got were weird looks; both from students and teachers alike. It was strange, not because of the fact that people were looking at him that way - because he had adapted all to well to how people look at him- but because why people looked at him,

 

That was when he realized that those judgemental eyes weren’t directed to him, but to Yoongi, the boy that walked closely beside him as Jimin lead him to the class. It didn’t seem like he noticed any of the whispers or displeased looks as they walked, but if he did, he was good at ignoring them all. He stole a glance at the student, studied how his hair reminded him of the caribbean ocean; a clear blue that draws you in and makes you want to swim in it. It’s such a unique color, one that Jimin had never seen on someone’s head before. His eyes shifted down to the boy’s more defined ones.They’re brown, like ground coffee beans or freshly tilled soil in the first throngs of spring, so kind and serine and _beautiful_ it makes his heart flutter in all the best ways and --

 

 

_Why in the hell am I thinking this way about a boy I just met ?!? Damnit Jimin, you’re fucking disgusting!!_

 

 

Just as quickly as he looked he turned away, cursing at himself for blushing like a fucking idiot. He is relieved when they come up to the classroom, it being halfway full with students who are also early for the lesson. Jimin walks to the area where no one else is sitting, placing his books on the desk and sliding into the seat. He was about to take out his notes when he noticed that Yoongi was sitting down beside him. Like, beside him, at the desk right next to his even though there are about 15 more that he could’ve chosen form. Yet he chose that one, and it makes Jimin give him a surprised look, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

 

 

“You don’t mind if I sit here, do you?” he asks, his voice cool and deep and confident, like he had been practicing those words just so he could say them to Jimin.

 

 

“N-no, not at all!” he might have answered that too fast, which wasn’t really his fault. He was just really surprised that Yoongi, of all people, actually volunteered to sit him and was not forced by the teacher. Jimin found himself smiling a smile as he looked down at his notebook.

 

 

He forgot how good it felt to do that.

 

 

⧫⧫⧫

 

 

 

Honestly, Yoongi didn’t really know why he approached Jimin like that. He was new to the school -- which was obvious, since he was the only one out of school uniform-- and was just thrown into the lion’s den like a steak. He knew no one, and no one knew him, which he guessed wasn’t really a bad thing if you asked him. A fresh start, almost, which was exactly what he needed. After going to the principal’s office to get his schedule he was sent out into the crowded halls to fend for himself, to navigate through the throngs of students all alone with no guidance. He could’ve chosen anyone, but something just… drew him in ? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he wanted to talk to the pretty looking boy that stood at his locker.

 

 

 

That was the first word that came to mind when he saw the brown-haired boy. Pretty but… _sad_. There was no smile on his face-- or any other emotion, for that matter-- like all the other students had. His eyes were like pools of melted chocolate -- Belgium, the best of the best, so pure like God lived in them himself. But they were so _empty_ , held no kind of depth other than utter sorrow and pain, and it was unsettling for Yoongi to look at such a _pretty_ person be so sad.

 

 

When they made eye contact for the first time, he could feel his heart constricting in his chest, and his feet move on their own until he was standing before him. Now here they are, sitting shoulder to shoulder in the same class, and he had no idea how he got here. The teacher was talking about the immediate value theorem like it was the best thing in the entire world -- it absolutely was NOT -- and it annoyed the hell out of Yoongi because he really wanted the lady, whatever her name was, to just shut the hell up and dismiss them so he could get out of here. He was surprised, however, when he looked to his right, he saw that Jimin’s notebook was full with neatly written and detailed notes on the topic. The boy followed along with every word she said, writing down everything that was deemed necessary on the topic, lasar focused on her and only her. Yoongi was quite impressed, since he had never seen someone so dedicated to something so boring before. Everyone else in the class seemed dazed, confused, or didn’t give a fuck, including him.

 

 

Maybe he could take a few lessons from Park Jimin.

 

 

 

⧫⧫⧫

 

 

 

 

 

For the rest of that day, Jimin spent his time between classes showing Yoongi where he was supposed to go. They didn’t have anymore classes together besides calculus, which was perfectly fine with Jimin, though Yoongi seemed a bit disappointed at that. Which confused him, because why would he want to spend his school hours with a disgrace like Jimin? He could very well be friends with anyone he wanted to, so why was he even talking to Jimin?

 

Whatever reason there was, Jimin wasn’t interested in finding out. Most likely he was just using him so he could find his way around the school. _Tomorrow he will act like you don’t even exist_. _You’ll see._

 

When the final bell sounded Jimin made his way out of the school and began his trip to his house, briskly walking the same sidewalk that he had been walking for the past two years. Halfway through the walk, he felt this… weird feeling. Like someone was watching him, following him. He quickly dismissed it, blaming it on hallucinations from the lack of sleep. But the more he tried to ignore it, the more the feeling intensified, until he thought he could hear the footsteps picking up behind him.

 

 

 

So he picked up his pace, holding onto his book bag straps a little tighter.

 

 

 

 

_Just a little more, Jimin. A little more and you will be okay._

 

 

 

 

 

But that didn’t happen. His walk turned into more of a trot, the a light jog, his heart hammering in his chest as the noises just kept getting closer and closer, like they were right behind him. Jimin through caution to the wind, and with a few deep breaths in preparation, he broke out into a mad sprint to his house. His suspicions were confirmed when he heard running behind and a boy yell “Catch him!!” He recognized that voice. It was the same boy from the bathroom, the one who tormented him the day before. Suddenly his words came back into his ears, creeping up into his mind.

 

 

 

_Tomorrow is a brand new day...._

 

 

 

It made Jimin run even faster. Faster than he’s ever ran before. He was scared -- terrified even, because he had no idea what was going to happen to him. All he wanted to do was go home.

 

 

 

He wouldn’t make make it there for a long time.


	4. you aint got no one to hold you. you aint got no one to care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HEYY GUYS
> 
> im so sorry it took me so long to update a new chapter! i had a terrible case of writer's block in the middle of this, and i just couldnt figure out where i wanted this story to go from the last chapter. there were also some situations with my friends and home life that i felt needed my attention, so i decided to take a break and get my stuff together. 
> 
> while on break i had discussed a few things with my sunshine(i refer to her that way a lot, if you didnt notice already. shes the amazing co writer of this fic)over the break, and she helped me basically start writing again. but after doing some thinking and many deleted chapters, i decided to eliminate the concept of active rape/sexual assault from this story. it just wasnt coming out like i wanted it to, and i didnt want to put out some half-ass work and be mad at myself later for it. 
> 
> granted, there will still be mention of it. as i said in the beginning, this is based on some of my life experiences as well, and it wouldnt be genuine if i didnt include it. i just dont want to write out the actual events of rape in this fic anymore. so i will remove it from the tags after this chapter is released
> 
> thank you for bearing with me~~

“Catch that faggot, don’t let him get away!!” the voice yelled again, although by this time Jimin had quit listening as he ran for his life. His lungs burned from how hard he was running but be blocked away the pain and the voices in his head telling him to stop. He  _ couldn’t _ stop, it’s not safe to stop.

 

He had to keep going.

 

But the three boys were gaining ground on him, inching closer and closer behind him that Jimin could hear every step they took if he took the chance to listen, which he didn’t do. 

 

There was no one else around the empty sidewalk; he can’t call on anyone to save him from what he knows will be immediate danger to his life. But really, what did he expect? Some Prince Charming to come to his aid? To help  _ him,  _ some low life outcast? Definitely not. The world doesn’t work that way, and it never did. 

 

He took the chance to look around his surroundings, searching for a place where he could possibly hide or get help. His eyes caught a glimpse of a small opening between two buildings, and without even thinking be sprinted towards it, dashing through the empty street and down into the alleyway. Though it was pretty light outside, the area was dark, which Jimin thought would work in his favor. He could hear that the footsteps weren’t behind him anymore, so he took a small opportunity to stop running and catch his breath, leaning against cool brick wall  with his hands on his knees. He was so focused on breathing and trying to calm down his rapidly beating heart that he didn’t even hear the sounds of people’s shoes hitting the pavement. 

  
  


“Damn, you’re fast. For a fag, that is.” 

 

Jimin quickly shot a glance to his left to see who the voice belonged to. His breath got caught in his throat at the sight. He quickly turned to his left, prepared to run out to the other side, but was stopped by three other boys, all bigger and taller than him, caging in on him and making him feel so uncomfortable. He was trapped between two walls with no way to escape. 

 

“You really wore us out, Jimin-ah. Look, even Jackson is breaking a sweat, and that never happens!” one of them said, proceeding to point to the shortest -- yet still heads taller than him-- boy of the group. He looked totally fine, but if he looked a little closer, squinted his eyes just enough, he could just see a drop or two of sweat roll from his neck, down into the collar of his uniform shirt where it was absorbed into nothingness. It was barely enough be be even called a “sweat” compared to Jimin, who was sure his hands were practically dripping and his hair was clinging to his forehead from the moisture. 

Jimin looked all around the area for an escape, an opening somewhere where he could just get  _ away  _ from this, but there are none. 

 

“Awe, are you  _ scared  _ Jimin-ah?” one of the voices mocks, but Jimin doesn’t recognize it. He also hadn’t recognized he was trembling, his eyes pricking with tears he tried to keep away.

 

_ Don’t cry, Jimin. Don’t let them see you cry here.  _

 

“He certainly looks like it,” another one of the voices says, it joined by one of the other boys from his left. He was much taller than him, with hair that was red at the tips that slowly merged into his black roots, and eyes that only spoke of danger and intimidation. This guy was strong, his build making him tower over Jimin like he was a mere insect, and if he weren’t so scared he would question if this guy even went to the same school as him, or if he was a full grown  _ adult  _ .

 

That though didn’t last long though, because seconds later he was slammed into the brick wall he was standing in front of, gritting his teeth in order to keep the cry of pain that almost escaped his lips at bay. They circled closer to him, stalking over him like a pack of wolves- and Jimin knew then and there that there would be no sensible way out of this. 

 

“P-Please-” he tried to plead to them, his voice sounding so weak and frail he wondered if they had even heard them. “Please, j-just let me go. I’ll do anything, just l-let me go home!”

 

But his pleads fall of deaf ears, the boys chuckling at his begging before getting even closer to him. Jimin feels absolutely  _ hopeless.  _ He’s so tired and frustrated and  _ alone,  _ and honestly he just wishes they would just go ahead and jump him to get his out of his misery-- because he knows that's exactly what they’re going to do. 

 

“I wonder where his little friend is?” the shortest one -- Jackson, he remembers-- says, and immediately Jimin shoots him a glare. It was anything but menacing, but Jimin didn’t care. Jackson raised his eyebrow in interest “Oh, so he is your friend? The other fag with the blue hair-”

 

“Don’t call him that!” Jimin snaps, voice now strong and demanding and _wow_ , he’s never used a tone like that before with anyone. But, Yoongi was a good guy -from what he has seen so far, which was very little - , and those idiots didn’t even know his name or have the common decency to say that snarky comment to his face.

 

 

“Or what? You’re little boyfriend’s gonna come get us?” he mocks, and Jimin feels an embarrassing heat climb up his neck and cheeks.

 

_ Boyfriend? Park Jimin? Give me a break! _

 

“Ah look at him, blushing like a fucking school girl!!~” another one calls out in amusement, making the others laugh. Jimin casts his gaze to the ground unable to meet their eyes. Until a hand forces itself against his neck, squeezing it, making his eyes shoot up to see who the hand belonged to. 

 

The laughing seems to immediately stop then, all of them looking at the scene in front of them. The one holding his neck squeezes harder and Jimin gasps, can feel his airways slowly closing while his head spins already from the lack of oxygen he’s getting. 

 

“Mark what are you doing?” one of them called, but the boy didn’t respond. Jimin was gagging on what little air he had left, the edges of his vision darkening as he stared in absolute horror at the boy in front of him. “Mark just take it easy. This isn’t apart of the plan-”

 

“This isn’t apart of  _ your _ plan,” he corrects, voice laced with agitation that send a cold chill down Jimin's spine “but it is _definitely_ part of mine” 

  
  


Jimin didn’t catch anymore of the conversation, his vision going totally blank seconds later. 

  
  
_Damn it, Jimin. what did you get yourself into this time ?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some more character introduction (kind of? lol)
> 
> i love GOT7 too, i swear!!
> 
> someone please save jiminie, i honestly feel so bad that he has to go through this :'((


	5. if you'd only understand dear, nobody wants you anywhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we're back again with another chapter!!
> 
> honestly this took way longer than I thought it would, mostly because my teachers decided to plot against me and assign 4 projects in the last month of school. But today was our last day! so hopefully we will be back with more consistent updates. 
> 
> this is all about our boy yoongi in this chapter. Hope you enjoy~~
> 
> xoxo,  
> fortaesconsumption <33

Life  _ never _ went according to plan. 

 

It wasn’t just one thing, no, it was everything leading up to this one thing.  As if the path or road taken lead to this. 

 

At first it was the small stuff, the late night on call “meetings” between his dad’s boss and his secretary talking about “organizing inventory” much to the look of concern on the mother’s face as she asked how many of these “organizing inventory” meetings could there be in a month. 

 

She told all of her concerns to the bottle of whiskey which led to her separation from the real world and the fictional one. 

 

But maybe that was the point.  Becoming numb so you wouldn’t have to handle the small things, like raising your own child. 

 

It seemed like raising Yoongi was like a daunting task for her, something she put off for as long as she could. She chose to nurse her bottle, rather than check so see if her son had eaten that day. 

 

_ Don’t sweat the small stuff, I guess.  _

 

Yoongi instead let the music take care of him. Piano lessons are what raised him. 

That piano was as much of a father figure than his own. 

These keys were the lessons, and notes on a page were stories. 

Since he learned how to play, he basically ate, drank, and slept music until he learned how to play melodies with his eyes closed. And despite his circumstances, young Yoongi learned to smile. 

 

Perhaps, in a way you wouldn’t have thought that smiling, confident boy across the room became that way because of his outlook.

Or maybe he wasn’t like that at all. 

 

He knew his fate had skipped a particular route when he suddenly moved away from his mother, with his dad and his then-secretary fiance into a grand house on the corner. 

 

Life never went according to plan. 

 

There were always new routes, surprising and haphazardly, thrown into the mix.Here’s another thing about routes, they are fickle.

 

 

No one knows exactly why the richest man in the world will turn into a broke man on the street.Or when a rainbow could changes into a storm a week later.

 

 

No one really knows. So they ask  _ ‘what if?’   _ And boy, Yoongi had a lot of those. 

 

 

What if his mother cared for him more? What if she wasn’t so caught up in what is awful-excuse-for-a-father was doing? What if his father wasn’t such a narsosistic asshole? What if his life was just  _ better,  _ with a better beginning and a better outcome and a better family that weren’t so selfish, or who weren’t blatant liars? 

 

 

No one really knows, especially Yoongi. 

 

        ⧫⧫⧫

 

“Hey Yoongi~. How was school?”

 

“Fine.” 

 

That’s all he could manage to say as he stepped into the passenger side of the car; his new stepmother, _ Jisoo’s _ ,  car. 

 

 

“ _ So _ , how was your first day?” she asked, curiosity and excitement laced in her voice as she looked over at her stepson. 

 

 

“Ok.” was his answer. He had barely looked at her since he entered the car.

 

 

“Just ok? Did you meet any new fr-”

 

 

“Look, can we just get going already ? I have a bunch of work that I have to catch up on and I need to get home” he snapped, annoyed and frustrated with her persistent small talk. He didn’t want to talk to her at all, especially about school.

 

 

Jisoo looked heartbroken at her stepson, but it didn’t last for too long, the sad look hidden away with something else, but Yoongi didn’t care to look. “Y-Yeah, sure thing! I should’ve guessed you would a little swamped with school work.” So yeah, maybe Yoongi could’ve been a little nicer when he spoke to her. But he was just ready to go home and get some rest, and she really wasn’t helping his situation.

 

(It also wasn’t helping that he kept thinking about Jimin the entire day basically, but he wasn’t about to admit that.) 

 

Jisoo pulled out of the line of cars at the front of the school, starting on the journey back to their house with Yoongi mindlessly staring out the window. 

 

Though he’s only been in Busan for a short while, he can already tell that it is a stark contrast from his home in Daegu. Not necessarily the look of it -- he’s never really cared enough to notice  at that-- but just the overall vibe that he gets from the place. It’s totally different from his hometown, but he hasn’t decided if that is a good thing or not. 

 

 

But he doesn’t miss the way that people look at him. Look at his image and how he presents himself to them. Normally Yoongi has an ‘ I don’t give a fuck’ attitude 24 hours a day. It was something that he had acquired after years of heartache that didn’t really heal correctly and left him with the harsh reality that if you just don’t care about it, then it doesn’t happen, and therefore doesn’t affect you. It wasn’t until he was forced to move to another city, that his attitude changed. The way people stared at him made the hairs on his neck stand on end, his palms get clammy, and his face contorted into something in between the lines of uncomfortable and just plain angry because _ fuck,  _ why were people always giving him  _ that look?!  _ The one that said  _ ‘what the fuck is wrong with you? You don’t belong here’  _ like Yoongi didn’t already know that he was an outsider, an outcast to what was he wasn’t ready to call his home, but was forced into it anyways. 

  
  


 

He thought about his mother often. He wondered if she was okay, or has she killed herself yet from her deepening alcoholism. He wonders if she ever thought about him, ever missed him and wanted him back with her instead of with his low-life father and his stupid new wife.

 

 

_ She probably doesn’t. How can she miss someone she barely even knows in the first place? Don’t be stupid, Yoongi.  _

  
  


 

So he drops the thought into the abyss with the others and just stares out the window, looking at all the trees that passed his eyes as fuzzy green objects of nothingness. Just in the corner of his eye, he caught something - someone, rather. They were running, the straps of their backpack tight in their grip; they looked like they were being chased but Yoongi couldn’t see what it was that had this person so terrified. He followed the person with his eyes, watched them look behind them for just a second before speeding up more. 

 

 

He could’ve sworn that the person looked just like that boy he had met hours earlier in school. Jimin, was it? He recognised his brown hair, and the navy blue of his backpack. 

 

 

But again, he dismissed it. He was tired, maybe he was seeing things? He had been thinking about the boy all day, so maybe this was apart of his imagination.

 

 

Still, he couldn’t help but get this…. Feeling in his chest.

 

 

Something was going to happen. He just knew it. 

  
  
  



	6. NOT AN UPDATE

I know, I know! I honestly hate doing this myself because it just feels like someone is teasing me. Please forgive me~

 

Anyway, as you saw in the summary this fic will be going on hiatus. Honestly its not like I really want to, but I feel like its necessary right now with the situation right now. 

 

I feel like I can be honest with you guys, so here it goes... 

 

Im really struggling guys, not gonna lie. Like ive dealt with depression before but this is just awful and I feel like I need to just step away from everything for a little bit. Its not just writing; recently I quit all my social media except twitter, and I havent really talked to anyone all summer except those people that im really close with. But emotionally and mentally Im just so tired, and I feel like if I stay in that mindset then my writing wont be good, and ive already felt that already. I have tried at least 40 times to write the next chapter in this fic and every one has not come out to my standards and what I feel that you guys deserve, and Ive honestly cried over it because it makes me so upset. I feel very unstable right now, and I just need some time to heal myself and get back on track. 

 

So, its going of hiatus. Hopefully I will be getting better soon and out of the rut that im in now so I can get back to writing for you guys. Please keep me in your prayers. 

 

Ill see you guys soon;;

**Author's Note:**

> Follow our twitter accounts @itsyagirl_ar and @thecomicsanend1  
> u want dank memes by the co-writer? follow @bulletproof.bias on Instagram
> 
>  
> 
> Until the next time~


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